Six Months To Go
by AJ Black1
Summary: At the six month milestone of Dean's crossroads deal, an omen drives a wedge between the brothers, and Ruby puts her plan into action.
1. Chapter 1

**Six Months To Go**

_Disclaimer: I do not own or have any rights to "Supernatural" characters or plots. This is a story written for fun._

_Author's Note: Usually, I work alone, but my husband Aaron is co-writing on this one. I'm giving credit where credit is due._

_Story takes place six months after Dean made his deal with the crossroads demon. This includes spoilers up through Season 3's episode "Fresh Blood"._

It was late, or early, depending on one's viewpoint. To Sam, it was definitely late. He had yet to get under the scratchy, hundred-count thread sheets of the Little River Inn. He and Dean were on their way to Harrisonburg, Pennsylvania, to investigate a possible vengeful spirit in an old hospital. They'd stopped for the night somewhere in the middle of Ohio. For a small state on the map, it took forever to get across.

Sam glanced over at his sleeping brother. Dean was sound asleep, hand unconsciously on the knife under his pillow. _I'm gonna get him out of this. _He turned his attention back to one of the books he'd gotten from Bobby. For the past six months, it was like he was back at Stanford, with all the reading he'd been doing. But this time, the reading was serious. It wasn't an A or B at stake if Sam didn't study hard enough—it was his brother.

He felt like he was close. Like if he just read one more page of one more book, he'd be able to get his brother out of the deal. Shooting the Crossroads Demon hadn't done a thing, except piss off his brother, and, undoubtedly, other demons. Sam ran a hand over his eyes, and took a drink of water from one of the motel's plastic cups. He shifted in his chair, and moved the curtains aside. It would've been completely dark, if not for the strobe-like flickering of a fluorescent street light in the hotel parking lot. The Impala was one of only three cars.

Sam flipped the page of his book just as the bedside clock hit four o'clock a.m. A sharp, sudden pain slammed him hard in the lower back. He cried out, and dropped to his knees on the floor. Dean jumped out of bed to rush to Sam's side.

"Sammy! What's wrong? What happened?" Dean blinked hard, trying to wake himself up.

"My back."

"Show me," Dean said. He knelt beside Sam and helped him remove his gray t-shirt. Sam groaned. A black bruise, the size of one of Muhammad Ali's fists, covered the small of his back where Jake had knifed him.

Dean grimaced and looked away. His eyes fell across the open book on the motel table. He stood straight up. "Jesus, Sam! I've told you over and over to stop trying to interfere with this deal! See what happens? You see?" Dean picked up the book and hurled it against the wall.

Sam tried to stand up.

"I give my life up for you, and this is what you do? Stay up all night reading?"

Sam braced against the chair and pulled himself up. He got in Dean's face. "I didn't ask you to sell your soul for me. I would rather be dead than have to deal with this pain."

"If I'd known you were such a selfish pussy, I would've left your dead ass in that ghost town!"

"I'm selfish?" Sam paused. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the argument was getting out of control, but it was like a semi truck speeding down a steep grade—unstoppable.

He cocked his head to the side. "I'm selfish because I don't want my brother to die."

"No." Dean kicked the chair; it toppled across the shag carpeting. "You're selfish because you can't accept that I didn't want you to!"

"So it's a chain of guilt, right?" Sam moved closer, hemming Dean between the table and fallen chair. "You feel guilty because Dad died for you, and now I feel guilty for your death. How can you leave me here alone?" He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and turned away from Dean.

Dean stared at the bruise.

"Damn it, Dean! You're my brother!"

"Oh, Jesus." Dean righted the chair and flopped onto it. "It's been a sausage party way too long."

Sam clenched and unclenched his fists. He took a deep breath before turning back to Dean. "That's right, joke. Joke about dying."

Dean shrugged. "Did you hear the one about the nun at her brother's funeral?"

"Six months." Sam towered over Dean in the chair. For a moment, he felt like his father. He took a step back. "To the day, I might add. And you're still making stupid jokes." He stopped, forehead crinkling. "Six months." He glanced at the digital alarm's bright crimson numbers: 4:09. "What time did you see the crossroads demon?"

Dean shrugged and shook his head.

"Was it four a.m.?"

Dean stood up. "Maybe."

"Shit. That's why this is happening." He snatched the book off the floor. "Not because I'm reading these books. It's a warning, Dean. For you."

"Oh. Really. Way to go, Professor. I may make jokes, but you go all geek-boy on me. Mr. Stanford's gotta figure everything out."

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder, forcing Dean to look at him. "When are you going to stop playing the badass and talk to me?"

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean closed his eyes.

"Fine, Dean, I'll shut up."

The tension eased from Dean's neck.

"I'm done talking." He started back to the table. "Now, can I get back to trying to save your life?"

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and spun him around. "I'm trying to save yours!" He slammed Sam against the wall. Dean's anger blinded him to Sam's wince. "You're right, Sam, that bruise is a warning. A warning for you to stop whatever the hell you're doing."

Sam sloughed off the pain and shoved Dean's hands away. "I won't stop till I know you're safe."

Dean stared hard into Sam's eyes. His face had gone dark red, as though all his capillaries had burst at once. "And I'm not gonna watch you die. _Again!_"

They held each other's glare for a long moment; then, Sam tightened his jaw. He pulled his duffel bag from under the table. He shoved his books and t-shirt into it. "Fine." He swung the door open; it rattled on its hinges. "You don't have to watch." Sam stormed out.

Dean watched the corner long after Sam had rounded it, waiting. "Come on." His voice was soft, a prayer. "Come on."

Sam didn't come back.

"_Damn it!_" Dean punched the wall, cracking the cheap plaster. He turned and slid to the floor. "Sam."

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own or have any rights to "Supernatural" characters or plots. This is a story written for fun._

_Author's Note: Usually, I work alone, but my husband Aaron is co-writing on this one. I'm giving credit where credit is due._

Sam trekked along the shoulder of Highway 23. He carried his duffel in his right hand; it occasionally bounced off his thigh, setting his cadence. The highway was deserted and the quarter-moon only offered enough light to follow the white fog-line as it curved over the horizon. He wished he had a line to guide him through his thoughts. Everything was a mass of contradictions. He hoped Dean would follow him. He needed the back-up. He needed the company. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want his brother with. Dean would distract him and slow him down. They'd be at constant odds. He pulled a compass out of the duffel's side pocket. He watched as the needle spun, orientating itself to magnetic north, and sighed. _What's the point? I don't know where I'm going._ He flipped the lid shut and jammed the compass into the pocket of his black denim jeans.

The faint hum of tires on asphalt grew louder and a pair of high beams cut through the darkness, illuminating the road in front of him. Sam turned, and squinted into the light. It wasn't, as he half-hoped, the Impala, but a white, Ford Taurus, dotted with orange-red rust spots. The car slowed and stopped beside him. The low rumbling of the idling engine drown out the sound of the power window. A soft, alto voice came from within the dark interior. "Nice abs," she said. Sam looked down; he had forgotten to put his shirt back on. He rummaged through his duffle bag for it. The driver's door clicked, followed by the annoying ding of the door ajar bell. Sam looked up and found himself staring straight into Ruby's eyes.

She stepped around the front of the car, tsk-ing and waggling a finger at him. "No shirt, no shoes, no service." She stopped a few feet from him and gave him a appraising gaze, sweeping her eyes across his chest. "Although, I could make an exception on the shirt thing."

Sam began pulling on his shirt.

Ruby's gaze settled on Sam's crotch. She smirked. "And I didn't say anything about pants."

Sam turned his back toward her and finished pulling on his shirt.

"Your ass is as tight as your abs," she commented.

Sam groaned and spun back around. He covered his mid-section with his duffle. "What are you doing here, Ruby?"

She came closer. "Watching out for my number one guy." She ran her hand across his chest. "Big brother pushing you around?"

Sam took a step back. "Are you here to give me a ride or seduce me?"

She dropped her head and gave Sam a fuck-me look from beneath her blonde bangs. "Can't I do both?"

He pushed past her and set out along the fog-line.

"Hey," she shouted, "I just thought you were finally ready to do something abut your brother's deal?" She put her hands in her jean pockets and strolled back toward the driver's side. "But, if you're not interested . . ."

Sam's back went rigid and his bruise radiated a dull ache. He started back toward the car. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"'Whatever it takes,'" Ruby repeated. She ran her tongue across her crimson lips. "Must've been one hell of a fight." She leaned into the car and keyed the trunk release. "For your bag," she said.

Sam tossed his duffle in and slammed the trunk. He slid into the passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt. All he found was empty air. "No safety belts?"

Ruby smiled. "Ain't life a bitch?" She glanced at the bulge in his pocket. "You have your cell?"

Sam felt his pocket and remember the compass. He ran his hand through his long hair and sighed. "It's at the motel."

"Good. No distractions." She accelerated down the road. "Let's get out of here. Ohio creeps me out."

Sam watched the road shrink in the side mirror and the glow from the cities lights fade into the darkness. He whispered: "Sorry, Dean."

Dean paced the shag carpeting avoiding the holes worn into by previous occupants. He had his cell jammed against his ear, trying to hear Bobby through lousy reception. "Just, if he calls, or if you hear anything, you know, let me know."

"Yeah, no problem." Static crackled through Bobby's voice. "You okay?"

Dean flipped off the lights and looked out the window, past the Impala, to the far side of the parking lot. "Yeah, fine." He squinted, trying to make out the shadowy form near the main highway. It was a mailbox. "I'm gonna do this salt and burn, give him some time to chill out."

"You know Sam," Bobby said. "Probably, just needs an hour or two to clear the air."

"Yeah, I know." Dean leaned his head against the window. The glass was cool against his brow. "Talk to you later, man."

He flipped his phone shut, started to put it in his pocket, then flipped it open again. He'd given Sam half an hour to calm down. Dean scrolled down to the name "Hutch" and pushed send. Sam's cell lit up, vibrated off the table, and hit the floor with a dull thud. "Son of a bitch," Dean said.

"What were you doing in the middle of Ohio?" Sam asked. They had been on the road for two hours and Ruby hadn't said anything else about helping Dean. It was too dark to make out the scenery, not that there was anything worth seeing, and her silence was more annoying than her banter.

Ruby set her hand on his leg and traced the hem of his jeans up his thigh. "I just can't stay away from you."

Sam's muscles twitched in response. He moved her hand and slid closer to the passenger door. "Seriously, tell me what the deal is."

She gave him a long hard stare. "You're on a need-to-know basis." She smiled. "At least until I know I can trust you."

"You're a demon." Sam shook his head. "And you're worried about trusting me?"

She cocked her head and frowned, as though he had just insisted the sky were purple and the sun a lemon drop. "The human track record isn't much better."

Sam was quiet a moment, then, "Would you watch the road, please."

Ruby redirected her gaze. "Neither of us can trust the other. In fact, we'd be stupid if we did."

"Um, yeah."

"But, we each need the other to get what we want. So we use each other a bit." She paused. "Purely, business."

"I'm sure." Sam slouched down. The support beam was pushing through the seat's worn upholstery and digging into his back. He eyed the radio. The panel was illuminated but the volume was turned down.

"It's 90's soft rock, or nothing," Ruby said. She stomped down on the accelerator and the engine roared into overdrive.

To Be Continued… (Tomorrow)


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own or have any rights to "Supernatural" characters or plots. This is a story written for fun._

_Author's Note: Usually, I work alone, but my husband Aaron is co-writing on this one. I'm giving credit where credit is due._

The motel room was dark. Before crashing Dean had pulled the heavy curtains shut, as much to keep him from looking out the window and not seeing Sam as to keep the light of the street lamp from streaming in. If Dean had known who was going to interrupt his sleep, he would have done more than pull the curtains; he would have laid a devil's trap. Ruby stepped out of the shadowed corner and stood at the foot of the bed. She crawled on top of Dean and sat on his chest and pinned his arms against his body with her thighs.

Dean groaned. "Mmm. Jo."

Ruby leaned down so her mouth was by his ear and lightly blew.

Dean turned his head. "Cut it out, that tickles."

Ruby took his earlobe between her thumb and forefinger and rubbed. She increased the pressure until his ear turned bright red and the pain woke Dean. When he opened his eyes he found himself staring into hers. He hollered. She made a shushing sound and rubbed her hand across his hair.

"What the hell?" He tried to sit up but couldn't shift her weight off his chest. "For a skinny chick you're pretty heavy."

She rolled her eyes. "I like you better asleep."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." She leaned closer and whispered: "You're quieter."

Dean head butted her. Ruby pulled back, blinking her eyes to regain their focus. Dean thrust his pelvis up, rolled to the left, and dumped her ass-first to the floor. He leaned over the side of the bed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She smiled up at him. "Just want you to know that everything's going to be alright."

"Somehow, a succubus attack while I'm sleeping doesn't strike me as maternal comfort." Dean dove from the bed and rolled to his duffle, reaching into it. He pulled out the colt, brought her into its sights, and fired. The sound of the shot was concussive in the small room and the air hazed with wispy smoke, but instead of a bullet, a single black rose sprouted from the barrel. Dean looked at the rose and then to spot where he'd dropped Ruby. She wasn't there.

Instead, she was behind him, running the rose's black petals across his shoulders. "This may be your dream," she whispered, "but I call the shots."

Dean stood there and watched Ruby out of the corner of his eye. "What do you want?"

"I'm not here to hurt you Dean." She scratched a rose thorn against his forearm, drawing blood. "I just want you to know I'm gonna take real good care of baby brother."

"Wow! That makes me feel so much better." Dean allowed his features to go flat. He looked toward her but not at her, giving her the kind of half-gaze he gave an opponent across the poker table when he was bluffing. "It's just, we both know, Sammy would never come to you."

"Sam's with me, now." She walked toward the door. "Why don't you take a break? Go to Vegas and loose some money or swing by Palm Springs and pick-up a hot little, VD blonde." She stepped through the door but her words echoed back to dean. "Forget Sam."

The phone rang in the motel room waking Dean. He was covered in a cold sweat and blood ran from a scratch on his forearm. The light of mid-day streamed around the edges of the heavy curtain. He answered the phone and cut the manager off before he could make threats about billing him for a second night. "I was just on my way to check out."

The feel of spit covered glass against his cheek woke Sam. His nose was mushed against the passenger side window and the hair on the right side of his head was plastered to his face. He squinted against the mid-day sun and groaned. It took him a minute to remember he was in a rusted out Taurus and not the Impala. He was even more reluctant to recall who his traveling companion was. "Ruby, how long have I been asleep?"

"Six hours," Ruby said.

He looked around for signs, but only saw corn fields. The sickly-sweet odor of pig manure seeped in through the vents. "Where are we? Illinois?"

"Iowa."

"Iowa? We were just in Ohio last night." Sam glanced over at the speedometer. The needle bounced between one hundred and a hundred and five. "You're speeding!"

Ruby gave him dull look. "I defy the laws of physics, what makes you think I follow traffic laws?"

Sam tossed his hands up and sighed. "Are we going somewhere fast?"

"We're headed to Cold Oak. You remember that place, right?" Ruby smirked, but kept her eyes on the road.

A cold chill, not associated with temperature, made Sam shiver. He reached his hand back and rubbed his bruise. "Yeah, I remember." Sam did his best to shut-out his memories of the ghost town and its demon inspired beauty pageant, but it's hard to forget the place you die. "So, what's the game plan, Ruby?"

Ruby pulled the emergency break and allowed the car to slide off the road toward the ditch. It stopped just before its right side tires crossed the edge.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Sam asked.

She put the transmission in park and turned off the ignition. She turned to him with the enthused look of a five year-old on meth. "Have you ever walked in a cornfield?"

"What . . . no . . . I don't think so—" Sam watched her, trying to figure out if this was the same demon who had picked him up last night.

Ruby opened the car and got out. She ducked her head back in. "Grab that backpack on the floor behind you."

"Why?"

"I need a break from driving." She looked through the passenger window at the twenty acre cornfield. "That, and I ain't been in no cornfield a'fore."

Sam laughed then felt bad for laughing. She was a demon; he couldn't afford to empathize with her. "I've seen a lot while hunting, but a down-home southern girl demon is a new one." He twisted round and grabbed the bag then got out of the car. Ruby was already disappearing into the cornfield. Sam hurried to catch-up; it was two easy to get turned around amongst the stalks.

She led him a half dozen feet into the field, which was far enough in they couldn't be seen by any cars that might pass by. Ruby plopped down on the rich, brown soil. She patted the ground beside her. "Pop a squat." Sam eased himself down in a cross-legged position. As he settled himself, she took the pack from him and pulled two brown paper bags out. She handed one to him and kept the other for herself. Sam eyed it and shook the bag.

"It's lunch, Sam; not a python." Ruby looked hurt by his distrust.

"Sorry. Never seen a demon give someone a free lunch, either."

Ruby shooed a fly away with her hand. "This 'demon' stuff has to stop, Sam." She opened her bag a pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Between bites she said: "I'm Ruby. You're Sam. We're a team. That simple."

Sam looked down at his lunch bag. She was making it difficult not to like her. He opened the bag and, instead of a sandwich found a bottle of blood. _Well, maybe not that difficult._ "I believe I have the wrong lunch."

"Nope. That's yours." She spoke with her mouthful. "Don't worry, it'll make sense."

Sam closed the bag. "Would you just tell me what's going on?"

He waited. Ruby looked at him for a moment. "Yellow Eyes showed you that he gave you his blood, right?"

Sam nodded.

Ruby was quiet a moment. She finished her sandwich before continuing. "The war between demons and humans has been in the making for a long time. A number of human babies were selected as potential hosts. You were Azazel's favorite, so he gave you an extra edge: a little demon blood booster."

"Booster? Like an energy drink?"

"No, more like a booster shot. You know how a demon destroys the human body it lives in?"

Sam nodded. He remembered Meg Masters and the seven-foot fall she had been victim of while possessed and how she didn't die till after the exorcism.

"The hosting process is taxing on the human body." She looked down at her own body and a sadness crossed her features. She pushed it off. "Also, iron and demons don't mix, causing a little disappearing act. We needed a human with a body prepared to withstand the physical demands a demon has, a body able to heal from injuries, a body with permanence."

Sam's eyes grew dark as he considered this. "If I let myself be possessed, how does this help Dean?"

"The demon selected to lead the demon army in your body and the demon who holds your brother's contract are the same: Chazal. If he takes your body he violates the terms of the contract and Dean is released from it."

Sam stood up. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. When he opened them Ruby was standing beside him. "What's in it for you?"

"Chazal is one of the few demons that's gained the respect of multiple factions in hell."

"Factions?"

She smirked. "You think humans invented denominationalism?" She picked Sam's brownbag lunch off the ground. "He's the only one who, with your blood-prepped body and abilities, can bring the demons under a central leader, so they're not running all over the Earth, doing whatever they want."

"And why is that bad?" Sam glared at her. "I thought your kind would love razing as much ground as possible."

Ruby's cheeks went red with heat and she screamed. It was a piercing, unnatural sound that almost made Sam soil himself. "You hunters think you know everything about us." She got right up in his face as she shouted. "Sure there's a number of us bent on destroying what you have, but some of us just want to co-exist, to not be in hell, which truly is _hell_. Everything people think it is, it is, and worse. All I want is a little peace." Ruby backed down, and turned away from Sam.

Sam put his hand on her shoulder. "You promise this will save my brother."

She turned so he could look into her bright, unblinking eyes. "I swear to you, Sam Winchester, that Dean will have his life back, and so will you when this is over."

"What do I have to do?"

Ruby smiled. "At Cold Oak, we'll hold a summoning ritual for Chazal. Right now . . ." She handed him the lunch sack. "Drink your booster."

Sam pulled the ancient bottle from the bag. It was made of dark blue glass and had three gold bands circling its neck. The red blood filling it was so thick and dark as to almost be black.

"You got the first half when you were six months old," Ruby said. "Drink the rest and you'll be ready."

Sam pulled the stopper from the bottle and held it beneath his nose. It had a heavy copper smell to it that made his stomach churn. "This is for you, Dean." He held his nose and downed the blood like a shot. To his credit, he only gagged once.

Ruby grinned. "Never seen a human drink demon blood."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own or have any rights to "Supernatural" characters or plots. This is a story written for fun._

_Author's Note: Usually, I work alone, but my husband Aaron is co-writing on this one. I'm giving credit where credit is due. Sorry this chapter took so long. Life._

Chad Kroeger's rough voice and the driving bass line to Nickelback's "Fight for All the Wrong Reasons" blasted from the Impala's speakers. Dean drummed on the steering wheel, almost in time with the music, as he watched the staccato march of bent and sheared-off mile marks. Tranced by the music and the hum of the tires on asphalt, he missed the incoming call on his cell. The cell beeped, registering its eighteenth missed call. It rang again, as the Nickleback song ended. This time he heard it and flipped it open. "What up, Bob?"

Bobby had gotten a phone call from his contact at St. Peter's Memorial Hospital in Harrisonburg. The man waited three hours before writing Dean off as a flaked-out no-show. That was a day ago. "Where the hell are you?" Bobby forced himself to sound pissed instead of concerned; Dean never reacted well to empathy.

"Going to that ER in Pittsburg."

"You mean Harrisonburg?"

"Yeah, I knew it was a 'burg'." A vague feeling of something important flitted through his mind and his foot eased off the gas. He tried to focus on the thought but something seemed to pull it into the background while images of the slender and mind-numbingly graceful Japanese girl from IHOP flooded in. Dean smiled. "Okay, I got a little distracted, but Bob, you should have seen this girl." He had a sudden craving for maple syrup.

"Don't call me 'Bob,' Dean."

"No prob, Bob." Dean chuckled at his less-than-creative witticism. "You know, Sam would've---" Out of the corner of his eye Dean glimpsed a large, gaudy billboard on the right shoulder. He slammed on the breaks and cranked the wheel hard toward the right. The Impala's tires squealed and traced a 180 degree burnt rubber arc across the road. Dean dropped his cell and stared at the sign. In bright orange letters between a palm tree and too golden sun were the words "WELCOME TO NORTH CAROLINA."

"Dean? Dean!" Bobby's voice sounded small and hollow, as though it were coming from the bottom of a deep pit.

_There's a hole in your mind._ The words echoed up to Dean from a childhood memory. A line from a science fiction program Sam used to watch. _There's a hole in your mind_ . . . Sam . . .

Dean grabbed the phone. "What day is this?"

"It's Tuesday, you moron."

"Sam left Sunday night," Dean mumbled. "It's Tuesday. I'm missing a whole day." A blue minivan came up fast on the Impala, the driver swerved and the van rocked on its axles as it swung a wide arc around Dean. The driver laid on the horn. Dean startled from his thoughts and jammed his foot down on the accelerator. The tires spun for a moment before they caught the road, and the Impala shot back in the direction it had come. "Bobby, there's a hole in my mind."

"There's a hole in your head, Dean." Bobby was shouting and no longer pretending to be pissed. "What the hell are you on? First, you call me in the middle of the night and tell me Sam's gone. Then, yesterday morning, you leave me a message saying Ruby's got Sam. Now you're babbling nonsense."

"I called you? No way, I don't remember that." Dean turned Bobby on speakerphone, and fiddled with the radio, Rob Zombie's "Demon Speeding" getting louder. "What is this shit?" He switched the radio off. "What happened to Zeppelin? Jesus, Bobby, the good stuff gets no radio play."

"Dean! Focus!" Bobby had moved past concerned, though angry, and was now scared shitless. "Now is not the time to go all ADD on me."

Dean laughed, and popped a handful of sunflower seeds in his mouth. The movement revealed a festering, swollen scratch on his forearm. For a moment Dean wondered where it came from, then it bubbled up a white froth and he forgot about it.

"Dean!"

The sound of Bobby's voice coming from the phone caught Dean off guard. "That you, Bob? What up?"

"Dean, turn that damn car of yours around, and get to my place. Now! Do it while we're on the phone."

"I'm on the job, man." He spat seed husks out the open window. "After."

"It's monkey work, Dean. I'll send someone else. What about Sam?"

"Sam," Dean repeated.

"Your brother—remember him?" Bobby's voice cracked. "Left in the middle of the night, a demon came, and told you she had him? Ring any bells?"

Dean shook his head, trying to clear his mind. _There's a hole . . . a hole . . ._ "Damn it! Bobby, what's wrong with me?" He made a sharp right onto a west-bound highway, tearing up grass as he swerved over the fog line and back. "Shit!" He reached under the seat for the cell's carjack and plugged one end into the phone and the other into the cigarette lighter. "Don't hang up, Bobby."

"Didn't plan on it." Bobby's voice was soft and Dean had to strain to hear it. "Don't worry, we'll figure out what's going on."

"Yeah?" Dean said. The speedometer's needle crested a hundred miles an hour.

"Yeah."

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder. Ruby was shaking him. He sat up slowly. He had been slouched over the armrest, almost leaning on her shoulder. His neck was stiff.

"We're here, Sam. It's time." Ruby leaned over from the driver's side; she was smiling at him. It was almost sunset and the last remnants of day played in Ruby's highlights. Had she not been a demon, he would've called her beautiful.

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt. He was nervous, and felt strange. His heart was beating fast, and sweat poured down the side of his face. The sweat ran down his chest and supersaturated the waistband of his pants. He opened the car door, and tried to get out. He groaned. His back throbbed, he swore he could feel Jake's knife blade twisting against his spine.

"You'll feel better soon, Sam, I promise." She pulled him to his feet. "Won't just knowing Dean's deal is off make you feel better?" She lead him away from the car. "He'll have his life back within the hour." Ruby gazed at him, seemingly earnest.

"What's wrong with me?" Sam asked. He tried to focus on her, but felt dizzy. Her body blurred and shifted.

"You're ready to host the demon, but your body can't assimilate these changes without the demon's help. It'll pass." She waited for him to nod. "Come on."

The abandoned streets, windmill, and bell loomed before Sam. He slowed but Ruby dragged him forward.

Ruby turned to look at him. "Scene of the crime, huh?"

Sam shook his head, looking around Cold Oak. The loneliness in the air was palpable. The town gave off sad, bitter vibes. It was like being in a large, empty morgue. No bodies, no evidence of death, yet so many had come through. Ruby was right. This was the scene of the crime—of so many crimes. How many people had died in here before him? Before Dean had given his life away, as well. Sam wanted to blow the place off the map. Maybe he would, one of these days. When he wasn't possessed.

"Ready, tiger? Straight ahead, past the windmill. I'll meet you." Ruby jogged ahead.

Sam lingered. The breeze blew his hair gently, as if it, too, was toying with him, using him. When this was all over, if it ever was, maybe he and Dean could get some normalcy back in their lives. Maybe he would finish school. Probably not. They could be mechanics, whatever. Just be two normal brothers. Hang out, watch the game, watch bad TV. Sam stopped himself. No chick-flick moments. He could almost hear Dean's voice saying it.

He followed Ruby past the windmill. Four people—two men, two women—stood pouring liquid into a deep circle dug into the ground. When he came into view, they stopped pouring, and watched him. One of the women smiled and waved. To an outsider, the scene could've been six friends meeting for a barbecue or something. But he was a Winchester.

"We've already started the preparations," Ruby said, black eyes flashing over blue.

Sam stepped beside Ruby next to the circle. "What do I need to do?"

"Take your shirt off. Gwen, come over." A short, stocky woman with dyed black hair walked over to Sam holding a cup with the handle of a paintbrush visible.

"Put the symbol over that bruise on his back." Ruby ran a finger down Sam's spine, making him shiver.

"What symbol?" Sam asked. He eyed the cup, examining the liquid. "Is that more demon blood?"

"Lamb's blood." Ruby winked. "Nice touch, right?" She watched Gwen.

The blood was cold and thick on Sam's back. He felt a circle being drawn around his bruise. The starting point was thick like an animals head and the ending point was thin like a tail. He mentally ran through all the demonic symbols he knew and couldn't think of what it could be.

Ruby looked into Sam's eyes. "It's time. Dean will thank you for this, Sam." She paused. "You'll see him again soon."

"Promise?" Sam couldn't help the childish question escaping his lips. He stared at her.

"No worries, mate," Ruby said. She turned serious. "Go lay face-down in the middle of the circle. These are Chazal's most trusted friends. No harm will come to him—or you—as long as we're here to protect him." Ruby smiled.

Sam paused before stepping over the oil-filled circle—his only outward sign of hesitation. He took a breath, stepped over, and lay down. The symbol on his back was the ouroboros, a large snake devouring itself tail first.

Sam lay still for a moment, inhaling the scent he knew to be the oil of ebrenalin, the same oil his father had used to summon Azazel to the hospital. He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes trained on Ruby. Ruby saw him, and looked at him, cupping a hand over her left ear, to hear him.

"If Dean comes after me, you'll leave him alone?" He had meant it to be a statement but the rise in his voice betrayed him.

"If? Must've been a hell of a fight," She repeated. "Of course he'll come after you, and of course we'll leave him alone. You're giving us everything we need. We won't do anything to jeopardize him or you."

"You keep saying that. How long is Chazal going to be…" Sam trailed off.

"Not long, Sammy. A week or two, tops." Ruby stepped back.

The circle caught fire.

"Demons lie, Sam." How many times had his father and brother told him that? How many times had he witnessed these lies, yet here he was. Sam closed his eyes, as second thoughts and smoke reigned over him. He heard Ruby's loud voice, and felt the heat rising He peeked, but saw nothing but flames. They were high, almost closing over him like a dome. Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" came to his panicked mind, and he pushed it away. It occurred to him that he would never going to get his body back, but at least, Dean live.

"Fio vestri Chazal! Huic vir, reperio vestri domus!" Ruby intoned deep voice.

He hadn't heard the phrase before, but slowly translated it, mouthing the words. "Become yourself, Chazal. In this man, find your home." He closed his eyes again, and forced himself to lay still as the flames continued to rise.

A black cloud roared up through the ground under Sam. It hovered above him a moment. It rotated counter-clockwise becoming a funnel cloud descending onto then entering Sam's body through the middle of the ouroboros. Sam screamed and his body went limp. The flames died down, as though someone turned an oven burner switch. Ruby and the others leaned over the flames as much as they dared; watching, waiting.

Two minutes passed. Sam didn't move. The demons grew restless, concerned.

"Did it work?" One of the men asked.

"Of course it did," Ruby answered. "It must have." She kicked at the dirt around the circle with the toe of her boot.

As if on cue, Chazal opened Sam's, now his, eyes, and leapt to his feet. He stared at Ruby. "Finally," he said. His voice was like Sam's only grittier, as though he had swallowed a mouthful of pumice. He walked through the flames, took Ruby in his arms, and kissed her. The ouroboros on his back had turned sooty and dark, the heat having burned the image onto him. He pulled away after a moment, and picked up the shirt lying on the ground. "Prepare for hell on earth, my friends. It's been a long time coming down." He took long strides, leading the way past the windmill, out of Cold Oak.


End file.
